Picking up on the interpreting poetry theme from my previous post . . .

[gwynhefar]

In undergrad we studied Wallace Stevens' "The Snow Man":

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

I have always loved winter -- winter is my favourite season. And I completely flummoxed my professor by mentioning that the scene painted did not, in fact, invoke misery to me at all, and the very desolation of the image was one of the things I found most beautiful about it. To which my professor stated, "I have no idea where to go from that . . ."

So, um yeah. I find "The Snow Man" to be an incredibly beautiful and life-affirming poem. Yes, I'm weird.

Comments

[just-the-ash.livejournal.com]

Indeed, it's almost as if Stevens had been studying Mahayana Buddhist doctrine.

[gwynraven.livejournal.com]

exactly. The professor was going on and on about how depressing the poem was and how it was all about despair. He read the lines about how one must have a mind of winter, etc. etc. to not hear misery in the sound of the wind as affirming the universality of despair -- as in anyone who is human feels this way. I read it as something to strive toward -- to have a mind of winter -- to truly *see* the scene as it is, and not through the interpretive lens of human culture -- to let go of the self, and become part of the scene, not separate from it -- "nothing himself, beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is" -- ie. not to see misery, because it is not there, but to see the Nothing that is . . .

Ok, so I'm waxing poetical, but that's how I read the poem, and I *loved* it, and I was so ready to talk all about it, and then I got to class and the prof was absolutely dumbfounded that anyone could see it that way.

[salingerscat.livejournal.com]

that is a very beautiful poem. I can see both sides of the argument although I agree with what you're studying. It's very Buddhist,indeed and reminds me of the work of A.R. Ammons. Hope all is well.

[opakele.livejournal.com]

Yes, very weird, indeed. I fowarded the poem to Himself. Lets see what he does with That.

[gwynraven.livejournal.com]

I'd be interested to know . . . I interpreted the poem completely differently than the standard interpretation (I expounded a little more in the comments).

Himself Said

[opakele.livejournal.com]

I have read your expoundings. It is getting where I'm spending two hours at the computer each night, but I find it all very interesting.

Himself works in a very remote part of the Aleutian Chain. He corrected me when I said that, and I can't remember what he said now. But it is that little dog leg that hangs down the left side of the state. The final leg of the journey involves a six seater airplane or a boat. We are talking very few finished roads, the few cars there are old rust buckets brought in by boat because there is no proper road to get there. All it is is a village grown up around a seafood plant. There is a harbor and a dock, where the tenders come in to off load. The marina is the only real colorful spot. Boats with names like Alaskan Wind. It is all surrounded by mountains and there is one old volcano.

He read your poem when he got into work at 4:00 this morning. He said he walked out in the yard later. There is a light dusting of snow now on the mountains. They loom above you and sweep down almost to the sea. Plant growth is very stunted, their Alders look like shrubs. All you see is brown mountains and a grey sky and the sound of water sloshing. He said he thought of the poem again. We need more people who see beauty in desolation, he said.

I agree.

Re: Himself Said

[gwynraven.livejournal.com]

I think so too. I've always been that way. The landscapes that to me are the most beautiful -- endless stretches of snow and ice, deserts, the moors of the British Isles -- are all in some way desolate. It's their very starkness that makes them beautiful to me.